


We shape our buildings; there after, they shape us.

by RiaQuay



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Architecture AU, F/M, Gen, Multi, barcelona, bodhi is perfect and must be protected at all costs, chirrut can do whatever he sets his mind to, hope ya'll like slow burns and descriptions of pretty buildings, yep i'm going there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaQuay/pseuds/RiaQuay
Summary: The modern day architecture/engineering college au I'm writing to break out of my writer's block. My first fic, and un beta'd. Any mistakes are mine. Set initially in London, but eventually heading to Barcelona. Cassian, Kay, Bodhi and Jyn are accepted into a prestigious post graduate design residency program at the Jedha Architecture firm in Barcelona. Kay gets a horrific sunburn, Jyn fights everyone, Chirrut is perfect, Baze is put upon, Cassian wants to create beautiful things, and Bodhi just wants to get through his thesis defense.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slight trigger warning: racist comments are alluded to, and unfinished.

Cassian and Kay pushed their way through the burgeoning crowd at the Queen’s Larder. A grimy pub around the corner from the Alliance College, the bar had become a second home for the pair. The worn bricks and faded wood paneling on the walls made Cassian feel at home when he first arrived in London, freezing and unused to the damp seeping into his too thin coat. 

Fresh off the plane, overtired in a way that felt like a horrific flu, Cassian had managed to find the on campus housing at the Alliance University, only to realize that he had miscalculated the time difference, and wouldn’t be able to get the keys to his room until the next day. A passing housekeeper saw him sitting, staring dead eyed at condensation beading on the windows. Taking pity, she had jotted down the address of a hostel just down the road from the college where he could stay the night, and suggested he stop by the pub next door for, “A quick cuppa and maybe a fish finger sandwich”. Ever since that first night, Cassian had kept returning to the pub. Studying for finals and drafting commercial design concepts were made tolerable by the variety of beers available on tap, and comforting bar food made a nice change of pace from the bland university fare. 

With the third term finally completed, the Queen’s Larder was an sea of students, all armed with pints of beer and overly loud laughter, blowing off the steam of rough set of final exams. Pushing through the crowd, Cassian found a table while Kay used his height and general disregard for social niceties to get the attention of the barman. 

Meeting when they were assigned a group project in Structural Analysis and Foundation Design, Cassian had salvaged their grade by talking Kay down from including a scathing dissection of every other group’s submissions. With a near genius level ability to compute and analyze engineering data, Kay’s disdain for sloppy work (“overly dreamy, nonsensical pieces of unattainable insanity Cassian, honestly, what are these people thinking.”) and overall lack of people skills was becoming a hindrance in the Engineering and Architectural program at Alliance U. Cassian provided Kay with designs based in what Kay referred to as “legitimate, earth based physics” with which to run structural simulations on, and Kay pushed Cassian to design beyond his usual scope of family homes, helping him ground design concepts in reality. 

“Here we go,” Kay says, setting two sweating pint glasses on Cassian’s hard won corner table, “celebratory alcoholic beverages”. Hiding a smile in the foam of his beer, Cassian let his eyes take in the crowd. The end of the term and the unusually warm day seemed to make the pub goers extra boisterous, a festive atmosphere that seemed to engulf even the dour old men sitting with their backs to the university students. A small crowd was forming by the dartboard, people cheering as an impromptu championship formed. 

Realizing Kay had been staring, Cassian took a gulp of beer. “Sorry Kay, I missed that. Come again?”. Spinning the coaster like a top, Kay asked for the second time, “You have all the paperwork in for the Barcelona residency? It does me no benefit to go without you, as I’ll likely be irked by the other candidates.”  
At Alliance University, Engineering and Architectural post graduates had the opportunity to spend 6 weeks working alongside an Alliance alum, often abroad. The residency was highly competitive, and almost always guaranteed a job at the firm after a successful defense of thesis work. The firm that opened their doors this year was Jedha Arquitectura Empresa. Famous in a city already famous for building design, Jedha was notorious for being run in part by a blind man, Chirrut Imwe. Together with his partner, Baze Malbus, Jedha established itself on the forefront of design in Barcelona, known for an unusual combination of brutalist and gaudi elements. The firm was commissioned for work around the globe, and had created some of the buildings that had inspired Cassian to pursue architectural design. 

Unlike Kay, who came from a family dynasty of engineers and old money, and whose interest in the residency program was purely intellectual, Cassian was attending Alliance on full scholarship. To network and garner job prospects in Barcelona, to even dream of working at Jedha, was something that had consumed Cassian’s waking thoughts since finding out about the residency program a year prior. His father hadn’t bothered to see him off at the airport in Mexico City (“He doesn’t understand, querida,” his aunt told him quietly, holding him close under the departure sign of the international terminal, “you must forgive him.”), and the only financial support he received aside from his scholarship came from his tutoring work. To leave school with a job at a world renowned firm would not only reaffirm his faith in his chosen career path, but would perhaps be the first step in building a relationship with his father.  
“You know I submitted before you did, stop worrying about how trying it would be to spend the summer in Barcelona,” Cassian said, straining his neck slightly to watch the ever intensifying dart match happening in the corner of the pub. “Besides,” he said, turning back to face Kay, “even if I’m not selected, they only accept the most gifted from the programs. You could manage, I imagine.” The idea of not being accepted hit Cassian like a gut punch, but with the applications submitted and the announcements made in two days, there was nothing to do now but wait. 

Barely holding in what was sure to be a disdainful sniff, Kay cleaned his glasses with the edge of his button up. “If Director Mothma does not select you, I will greatly question the criteria with which they choose candidates. Even Professor Draven, constipated with his praise as he may be, has acknowledged the value of your previous work.”

Taken aback by the rare, somewhat backhanded compliment, Cassian turned back to watch what seemed to be the final round of the darts match. The first player must have been someone small, as he couldn’t see their head through the crowd of spectators. Their opponent was a slender, slightly jittery Pakistani man Cassian had seen studying around the Engineers College. While the man made good, consistent shots, his opponent stepped into the final round and threw the dart like it had done them a great personal wrong, ferocious in delivery and accuracy. The crowd erupted as the short player clustered their final shots in the bull’s eye. Cassian cheered along with the bar as the sea of people shifted, revealing the man lifting a tiny brunette woman in a twirling hug, laughing as she thrust her fist in the air with a victorious war cry. 

The majority of the spectators dissipated, some to the patio and the rest back to their tables. The two dart players lingered by the bar, awaiting refills, the brunette talking smack to the man, made somewhat ineffective by the angle she had to tilt her head in order talk to him, and his laughter.  
The sudden drop in occupancy made the pub seem much quieter, so when one of the men across the bar made a comment regarding the dart player to his friend, the observation floated over the bar into the ears of the dart players. Cassian snapped his head up from his napkin doodle to her slamming her pint on the bartop. Leaning forward, her icy tone cutting across the now silent room, “If you have a problem, you better f*cking say it to my face.” Her friend, ears slowly reddening, tugged the woman’s arm ineffectually, saying “Jyn, come on, he’s not worth it, let’s just head down-”

Filled with the kind of bravery that comes upon when they’ve had too much to drink and consumed too much conservative media, the man interrupted him, staring the dart player down to sneer, “Yeah that’s right, why don’t you leave and head all the way home, job snatching Pak-”.  
How he planned on finishing that sentence Cassian would never find out, as the brunette had weaponized the dartboard, swinging it with terrible finality into the man’s head. He went sprawling onto the pub floor, barstool toppling over. As his friends yelped and scattered, the woman, Jyn, pinned the man down, delivering four or five merciless punches before hauling his bloody face up to hers by the collar.

“Apologize, you worthless piece of scum, or I’ll rearrange your face some more” she snarled, unbothered by the man’s blood flowing down her fists, or the barkeep yelling at everybody to take their fight elsewhere or he’d calling the police. The spectators from the patio had reconvened inside the pub, thrilled by the violence, cheering the fight on. Her friend was now trying to dislodge her from the man’s chest, while his friends had slipped out at the mention of the authorities being summoned. 

The man, in what would become a legendary moment of stupidity, spat a bloody loogie in the direction of Jyn’s face. Her thunderous face split in a predator’s grin as she hauled back, fist landing squarely on her opponent’s nose. The crowd, feeding off her energy, roared in approval as the fight continued. Jyn’s friend, the dart player, was still attempting the separate her, while also trying to dodge blows from both fighters. 

With a pronounced throat clearing, Kay drew Cassian’s attention, indicating the side door with a nod. As they left the pub, the faint sound of sirens could be heard. 

“Well,” Kay mused, hands tucked deep into his trouser pockets, “she seemed like a rather unlikeable person.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn and Bodhi are leaving on a jet plane.

"Jyn, you should seriously consider investing in proper concealer if you keep getting into fights.

Looking up from the unsolvable knot that held her headphones, Jyn scowled at Bodhi, the bruise that had bloomed on her cheek, showing violet and electric against her pale skin. Bodhi, acclimated to Jyn's "murder faces" after all these years of friendship, leaned close on their shared armrest, one long finger coming up to prod the edge of the bruise, saying "Actually, I bet there's someone on YouTube who has a channel just for that, How to Blend Away Evidence From Bar Fights in 4 Easy steps or something like that."

Ignoring her icy stare in favor of continuing his gentle examination of the extent of the bruising, he continued on, "Or, maybe there's a Buzzfeed article. They've been trying to incorporate more urban information, what could be more urban than a pub brawl?" Pleased with his findings, Bodhi settled back into his seat, voice soft as he looked into her eyes, green irises popping against the purples of her bruise. "Honestly, you didn't have to do that. You don't have to protect me all the time."

Jyn threw her headphones back into her beat up satchel, nudging the army green bag under the seat as the stewardess announced their flight to Barcelona would be departing shortly, and if they could please check their lap belts. Picking at a hangnail to avoid the earnest look on Bodhi's face, she grumbled, "He was a prick, and letting it slide would make things worse. Nip it in the bud, or whatever." Flexing her hand, she took in the already fading cuts on her knuckles. "So don't think of it as just for you, think of it as cosmic justice shit."

The first time Bodhi met Jyn, he was 11 years old. Wembley was so different from the suburbs of Islamabad, dreary and cold, green but not lush in the way he was used to. His mother insisted that Bodhi would love London in time, and encouraged him to join in the impromptu football matches that took place in the dilapidated park around the corner from their little flat. His continued refusal to leave his room eventually resulted in his mom locking him out of the apartment, telling him to come back in a few hours after he "either made a friend or found something worth telling about". Homesick for his old friends, and more than a little put out that his mother had booted him from the house, Bodhi wandered over to the sounds of a football match coming from the park. Two hours later, a laughing Bodhi came home covered in mud, dragging an equally muddy Jyn behind him, her grin blinding even through the blood pouring from her nose. Bodhi never told his parents the exact circumstances under which they met, but from that day the pair became inseparable.

Bodhi huffed a sigh, knowing there was nothing else he could pry out of her. Jyn had gotten into fights since he'd known her; only since she decided to pursue her degree in commercial design had she started coming home with black eyes and bloody knuckles less and less frequently. Her parents had died when she was young; after a lengthy court battle and time spent within the foster system, guardianship of little Jyn had been awarded to her parents long time friend, Saw Gerrera. A sculptor known for creating self destructing pieces on a massive scale, Gerrera had set up is studio and base in Wembley. Jyn lived with him there, growing up surrounded by an ever revolving mixture of radicals and avant-garde artists. The combination of the extremist nature of Saw's studio space and Jyn's inherent anger, brewing since the death of her parents, resulted in fisticuffs in school hallways, detentions and written warnings. Jyn barreled through her life with all the grace of a tsunami, leaving nothing in her path untouched.

At cruising altitude, Jyn nudged Bodhi with her shoulder, pulling him out of his reverie. "We're doing it Bodhi, on our way to Barcelona and Jedha. Wish I could've seen Krennic's face when he realized he wasn't selected." She leaned back, closing her eyes as a smug grin unfurled on her face. "Bet he's still being a little shit about it, probably tried to appeal to the board or something." Bodhi snorted, knowing it was a lost cause to try and chastise Jyn about gloating over another students misfortune.

Since they were in undergrad, Jyn and Orson Krennic had been enemies. Their feud was infamous at the university, and the years had done nothing to alleviate the tension between the two. Secretly, Bodhi was equally relieved that Krennic hadn't been chosen as the other designer for the residency. Uptight and condescending, Krennic was the exact opposite of the kind of person Bodhi wanted to spend his summer working alongside. "Did you happen to see the list, see who else will be there?" Bodhi drummed his fingers on the arm rest, shaking his head slowly as he thought back. "Mmmm, not that I can remember. After I saw our project was accepted I spaced out on the rest." The program accepted two design teams, each with an engineer and architect. Professor Mothma was infamous for promoting and fostering the relationship between the artistic and mathematical aspects of architecture; it made sense that the firm that was chosen as the externship site also focused on a strong bond between designer and engineer.

"Well," Jyn grunted as she tugged her sketch pad out from her bag, "as long as it wasn't Krennic or that twat Esso, I'm happy." Knowing that when she started drawing conversation would dwindle to incomprehensible grunts, Bodhi jammed his jacket next to the window and settled in to nap the flight away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you for the wonderful responses!!! It's been so heart warming and literally fills me with butterflies. This chapter is pretty exposition heavy regarding Jyn/Bodhi, so the next chapter should start up with the Barcelona adventure! Please note that I am American, so any British-isms that are used are gleaned from media consumption and some googling. 
> 
> I am trying to create a strong, believable world without bogging the story down. Whether I succeed or not remains to be seen. Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the kudos and comments. There are no words.

**Author's Note:**

> Links will eventually be posted to provide visuals for some of the buildings/places Cassian and Jyn visit and are inspired by.


End file.
